2/26/25 - Seriously?

“Ma’am, do you mind handing me some toilet paper? I’m all out over here.”

“Absolutely! That’s so frustrating.” The kind, faceless stranger handed me the paper I needed under the stall wall. I never saw her. “So frustrating,” she had said. About a lack of toilet paper. I wish I was getting frustrated about that.

By the time this bathroom mini-transaction had taken place, “frustration” didn’t begin to cover our day. We had borrowed our friend Claire’s car so that I could get to Walgreens to pick up my thyroid medication. I’m completely out of pills as of today. After jumping through a lot of hoops with new insurance in a new town, I had received confirmation that my order was finally ready. I had borrowed the car and packed everything we needed to be out for the full day. The Coastal Diesel guy was coming to fix our engine (!!!) and we anticipated that the kids’ rooms were going to be completely torn apart. But we were ready! We know how to do this now!

“That’ll be $18.95.”

“Really? For a 90-day supply?”

“Yup.” Fantastic! This is wonderful! I expected it to be a lot more expensive! It’s almost as if….wait…..

“Is that a prescription for Synthroid or the generic Levothyroxine?”

“We gave you the generic,” the pharmacist said cheerfully. Riiiiiiight…. I explained that I actually need to be on the brand name drug. The generic had not worked for me years ago and my trusted, longtime endocrinologist who has since long passed away made me swear that I would never do the generic again. “Do the generic for everything except your thyroid medication,” he had warned. This was a wasted trip to Walgreens. Argh! I’ll either walk back here tomorrow or ask Claire if I can borrow her car again. Okay, no problem….things could be worse.

The kids and I headed back to the marina to return the car, planning for a quick stop before camping out at a coffee shop to do our homeschooling. When we dropped off the car, we ran into Dave, the diesel mechanic. He looked like he was leaving. He had driven two hours to get to Southport and he was supposed to be here at least one day if not two. He just got here 30 minutes ago. Why does he look like he is leaving…???? He reluctantly approached me and said that they had ordered the wrong part. We are going to need to order the part from England. NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Sidebar: The last time we ordered an engine part from England it was easily the single most frustrating, rage-inducing, yes-I-actually-scream-sobbed-into-a-pillow experience of my last five years. There were endless “it’ll be there tomorrow, the system says so” fruitless phone calls to uninformed, unhelpful but very falsy confident and well-meaning FedEx workers who were looking at incorrect information in their computers and parroting it back to me. My chorus was a constant “I know (!) your computer says it will be there tomorrow, but every person I have talked to for the last seven days in a row has told me the same thing and it’s not there! Would you please somehow connect me to the FedEx store in New Bern????” “I’m sorry ma’am, I have no way to do that….but I PROMISE it will be there tomorrow….the computer says so.”

So what was the problem? Our original desperately needed part had the word “kit” in it. The “kit” was an elbow join with two screws. Three pieces—this makes it a “kit.” The US Customs department doesn’t like the word “kit.” Too mysterious. So…Customs kept rejecting it and our part—that we had spent a small fortune to ship international next day priority—was joyriding on a truck in New Bern, NC for a several weeks while we went back and forth email-pleading with strangers in the UK to list out the actual parts included in the box. “But….our system lists it as a “kit”…we don’t have individual pricing for those pieces…I don’t think we can do that…”) When we finally arrived in New Bern, I went into the FedEx store in person. And they had our part. Right there! I could touch it. But I couldn’t have it. That. Was. Sooooooooooo. Frustrating.

January 15th in New Bern with the “kit” that held us up for six weeks.

Flash back to the present moment with Dave, the diesel mechanic. “Yeah, it looks like your husband is going to order that part from England.” I wanted to throw up. The kids overheard what he had said to me and I could hear the panic in their voices. “We’re going to have to order a part from England again…????”

The three of us slowly walked back to join Steve back at the boat. I told him that we ran into Dave at the end of the dock and Steve confirmed that he was in the process of ordering the part. The new “kit.”

And then the four of us sat there in silence for a long, long time. Addie and I both had a few tears fall. Sid had his head down on the table. Steve was just staring at the table. Part of me wanted to rage scream. But the majority of me was just too tired (still not sleeping) and weary from all of the disappointment. We all were. ARGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!! We are supposed to be in the Bahamas. We were supposed to be there six weeks ago!!!! We’re going to miss our window to get there!!!!

Eventually, we picked ourselves up and went for a walk. Three of us were already anticipating hot chocolates and chai lattes and we needed to get off of the boat and get out for a while. We grabbed drinks from Port City Java (a favorite from my time in Charleston) and sat at Waterfront Park on the benches, watching the boats go by on the water.

Steve and Addie processing the idea of another delay.

It was (is) a gorgeous day—the warmest day we’ve had yet. Feels like 77 degrees. We walked around a bit, vented, swore we wouldn’t make any sudden decisions and then ended up having lunch at Fishy Fishy, where Sid discovered that he likes coconut shrimp (but only after you take the coconut breading off…? What???). We had pina coladas. The kids were giggling. Had it not been for this huge setback (and the fact that my lifejacket somehow spontaneously expanded while we were out and set off my PLB—personal locator beacon—and we got a call from the US Air Force Rescue Coordination Center making sure I hadn’t fallen overboard), I would call it a great day. (And yes, the lifejacket/PLB was another project for Steve.)

I would be lying if I gave the impression that we’ve been miserable all of the time. We are definitely making the best of our situation. We have made lifelong friends since being in Southport, gone for bike rides, hung out on other people’s boats, found a good church, laughed at a lot of hilarious tea towels and eaten gelato several times (thanks, Michelle!). Steve and I were walking behind the kids back to the boat after lunch today watching Sid and Addie joke around with each other. “They are handling this better than we are,” Steve noted. He’s right. They are rolling with these punches beautifully. So proud of them.

Sid & Addie at Fishy Fishy. It’s a fun restaurant with signs like “We don’t skinny dip. We chunky dunk.”

**sigh** But….as much as I want to Pollyana my way through this, this is tough. On the surface it shouldn’t be more than another week or two . But morale-wise, this feels so big. It’s been one thing after another since December. As Sid matter-of-factly pointed out, we have moved two days in the last three months.

I’m sure there’s some sort of divine “acceptance” lesson here somewhere. A ‘bloom where you’re planted’ type thing. While I’m all for that, in this moment, my inner five-year-old is throwing a tantrum. And I know I need to let myself throw that tantrum (appropriately) and feel that disappointment because if I don’t, it will spill out of me.

**deep breath** We are safe. We are warm. We are fed. We are together. The weather is better than it was. You’re sitting in the cockpit and it’s almost sunset and the boat is rocking back and forth. You have options. It’s another week or two in this cute little place, Holl. Don’t give up yet…..

So many funny towels….

But the towels are not always right: saltwater does NOT heal everything.

Update: Steve ordered the replacement part for the lifejacket. That project is DONE!

Update to the Update: Steve just got an email saying our credit card was rejected, likely due to the fact that we can never remember if that credit card has our old address or our new (aka…my parents’) address. And he has now spent another 30 minutes trying to sort that out. That project is not done. It never ends.

Update to Update to Update (30 min after Update to the Update): Steve just got a call from the lifejacket CO2 cartridge vendor. Our credit card is still being declined due to mismatching addresses.

Frustration and Disappointment. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.